Over a decade ago, I stood in a long line of people holding a book under my arm, waiting to shake the hand of the man that I thought would be the next president of the United States of America. That book was called Faith of My Fathers, and the man was John McCain.
I had never before gone to a book signing for a politician. For me, it was enough that I read their books, and I was not so naive to believe that many of them really had our best interests at heart. But John McCain was different. Or so I thought.
As McCain prepares to fight for his political life in an Arizona primary, stooping so low as to resort to having Sarah Palin campaign with him, I can only reflect on the man that he once was – the consummate American Maverick.
Yes, he had been involved in the Keating Five. It was early in his political career, and he seemed transformed by the experience. An epiphany of sorts, if you will. That political corruption was only one campaign contribution away. That taking large sums of money from one man, or one industry, made you beholden to their interests, no matter how unlawful, immoral or unethical those interests might be. That often the agenda of the rich and powerful was anathema to the interests of your constituents – the very people at whose behest you serve. That these very powerful interests had the effect of diluting democracy through buying influence over your better judgment. Therefore, by avoiding the inclination to take these large sums of campaign contributions, a politician could vote his conscience, and ensure that the best interests of his constituents was always at the forefront of every decision he/she makes.
That was what made John McCain so different from other politicians. He did not stick his finger up in the air to see which way the political winds were blowing. Back then, no one could label him as a Conservative or Liberal – though many tried. His brand of politics defied labeling. He did not care that his fellow Republicans were pounding the podiums, railing like preachers against some horrible “liberal” agenda, while powerful corporations quietly stuffed their campaign coffers full of cash. He did not countenance the Democrats pleas to alleviate the toil and suffering of the American farmer, while they all lived in opulence and rode in limousines to the Capitol building every day – all paid for by powerful corporate agricultural interests.
He was the consummate warrior. A former POW, who understood what it was like to have no hope. Who could relate to the man who was downtrodden and beaten by those who held power over him. Who survived the the torture and suffering, and came back from the living dead to come face to face with his enemy, and walk through the ruins of the Hanoi Hilton – the building where they tried for years upon years to break his body and spirit.
Time and time again, he stood up in the Senate chambers, excoriating his fellow politicians – both Republicans and Democrats – for their duplicity and hypocrisy. He pushed hard for campaign finance reform. He wanted to eliminate the “soft money” that so deeply corrupts our political system. He was the penultimate maverick – no, not some Populist Teabagger “pretender” like Sarah Palin. When John McCain spoke, all of his fellow politicians shuddered. For they knew the things he was saying rang true. The system was broken, and they were all responsible.
That was then. This is now. As the Republicans have moved further and further to the right, McCain has followed. The Maverick is now just a hollow, old caricature of himself. Another washed-up politician, long in the tooth, and short on having the sense to know it’s time to bow out gracefully. Unfortunately, John McCain left all that grace at the alter of his egotistical aspirations for the Republican Presidential nomination in 2007. The price was his political independence – which was bought and paid for by the Far Right.
Paradoxically, he sold his soul to that devil, and now he cannot have it back.
The John McCain whose hand I shook that day in 1999 is dead. The book that contains an inscription from him to myself lies on a shelf, covered in dust - just like the man who authored it. We will miss you dearly, John. Your brand of politics was a breath of fresh air. Now all we have to breathe is the dark, politically-polluted gases that hang like a cloud of death over our nation’s capitol. And for that, John McCain, you too are now partially responsible.
I will shed no tears. I just shake my head in disgust, and walk away.